True Devotion. Marta Perry

      He suspected his eyebrows went even higher. “You’re an attorney.”

      She wasn’t just a nuisance. She was an intelligent nuisance who wouldn’t let him gain the slightest advantage.

      “As a matter of fact, I am.”

      He glanced at the address on the registration card in his hand.

      “What’s a Philadelphia lawyer doing in a place like Lakemont in October?”

      Pregnant. And alone, obviously, in spite of the gold band and large matching diamond on her left hand.

      “I’m sure Sloane Lodge gets its share of tourists who come to admire the autumn leaves, doesn’t it?” She put that hand up to push back a lock of auburn hair that had strayed onto her cheek.

      “Leaf peepers generally come on the weekends. And if you’ll forgive my saying so, you don’t look the type.”

      She certainly didn’t fit his idea of the kind of person who’d settle down in a rustic cottage on a smallish lake in the Pocono Mountains to watch the leaves change colors. Every inch of her, from the burnished auburn hair to the black outfit to the expensive and impractical shoes, shrieked urban professional.

      She shrugged. “Let’s say I’m looking for quiet and let it go at that.”

      Too bad he couldn’t import a few bulldozers to increase the decibel level.

      “Look, Ms. Morgan, surely we can resolve this in a way that suits both of us.”

      “As far as I’m concerned, this is resolved.”

      He tried not to look around at the cottage that was only too familiar to him—living room and kitchen downstairs, with a deck over the lake. Two bedrooms and a bath up the narrow stairs, still decorated in the casual country charm Linda had insisted upon.

      And he’d certainly better not think about the master bedroom, with its quilt-covered king-size bed situated to give a view out over the lake immediately on waking.

      “This place is too isolated for a pregnant woman alone.” The words were like poison on his tongue, and a fierce anger rose in him that she’d pushed him into saying them. “You ought to have someone around.”

      Her face tightened, the skin drawing bleakly against her high cheekbones. “Frankly, whether I’m alone or not is none of your business. And if you try to evict me because I’m pregnant, you’ll be borrowing more trouble than you’ll know what to do with.”

      He’d gone too far, obviously. He tried to tamp down his emotions. “I’m not saying anything of the kind. I’m just asking that you be reasonable.”

      “Reasonable?” Lightning seemed to spark from her eyes.

      His choice of words had been a mistake. He raised his hands, palms outward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’d just like to persuade you that you’d be more comfortable elsewhere.”

      “I’m perfectly comfortable.” She rubbed her arms on the sleeves of the loose black sweater she wore, as if chilled, then nodded toward the still-open door. “I am, however, a little tired of this conversation. So if you don’t mind…”

      Short of removing the woman bodily, he didn’t have many options. It was clearly time to beat a strategic retreat. He nodded with as much grace as he could muster and went to the door.

      He paused once he reached the porch. “We’ll talk again later.”

      “I won’t have changed my mind.” The door snapped shut behind him.

      He took the two steps off the porch and started down the lane toward the lodge. At least he could breathe again, once he was away from the cottage.

      Ms. Susannah Morgan clearly thought she’d won that round. He grimaced. Well, maybe she had.

      But that didn’t mean he was giving up. For a lot of reasons, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d convinced Susannah Morgan that she didn’t belong here.

      Several hours had passed, and Susannah still wasn’t sure why she’d reacted so vehemently to Nathan Sloane’s presence earlier. She closed the cottage door and stood on the porch for a moment, struggling to zip her jacket.

      You’re getting bigger, little one. She smoothed her hand over the rounded bulge. I just wish…

      What did she wish? That she’d taken Sloane’s offer and moved into the lodge, putting off an argument until another day?

      There was no real reason she couldn’t move into the main building. Her reason for being here required that she stay at Sloane Lodge, but not necessarily in the cottage.

      Still, when she’d walked into the cottage, tired and stressed from the trip, a sense of peace had come over her. She’d moved slowly around the small rooms, letting the feeling seep into her very bones, feeling a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time. She didn’t want to give that up for Nathan Sloane’s arbitrary decision.

      She touched the porch railing, noticing the window boxes on the windows and the ladder-back rockers on the tiny porch. Someone had taken a lot of trouble with the cottage. It was a happy place. A place where perhaps, in spite of the disturbing situation that had brought her to Sloane Lodge, she could find the peace that had eluded her for months.

      She started up the lane toward the lodge. In spite of Nathan’s comments about the cottage being isolated, it really wasn’t that far—certainly not more than a quarter of a mile. It would be pleasant to walk on this brisk evening, and the doctor had told her to walk.

      Trees spangled with russet and golden leaves lined the lane, but the rounded mountain ridge on the far side of the lake hadn’t given up its deep green color yet. Still, the season was turning. What had once seemed like an endless year moved inexorably on. In a month and a half their baby would arrive, another milestone of life without Trevor.

      Why did you do it? The question she’d asked so often burst out of hiding again. Why, Trevor? I know our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I did think we were honest with each other. Why did you lie to me about where you were going? Why did you come to this place?

      Any answers Trevor might have given had died with him in the car accident. If she were to find out what had brought Trevor to Sloane Lodge in Lakemont, instead of to the business conference in Boston he’d told her he was attending, she’d have to do it herself.

      And she’d have to do it here. If the answers were anywhere, they were at Sloane Lodge.

      Only one month. That was all she had before her obstetrician insisted she not travel. One month in which to learn the truth.

      The trees gave way to a thick clump of rhododendrons, their glossy leaves hiding the foundation of the lodge. She rounded the building, heading for the door she’d used when she’d gone inside to register. Maybe there was a back entrance from the cottages, but she didn’t feel inclined to search for it in the gathering dusk.

      The sprawling frame-and-shingle building stretched a wide porch across its front, and welcoming light spilled from the many-paned windows.

      She thought again of Nathan Sloane’s reaction to her presence. That had been anything but welcoming.

      She’d probably see him again at dinner. Bracing herself for the idea of conflict, she mounted the steps and entered the lodge.

      Once she was inside the wide front hallway with its bentwood coat racks and curly maple bench, the registration desk lured her. Access to the lodge’s records would tell her exactly how long Trevor had stayed before he died and whether that had been his only trip to the lodge. Barren information, probably, but more than she knew now.

      But there was no chance to explore. Even now, someone approached from the shadowy rear of the hall.

      “You must be Ms. Morgan.”

      For an instant, before the man stepped into the pool of